Comiskey Park: Baseball’s Oldest

Seventy-six years ago, Halley’s Comet streaked across the horizon. Believing the old Irish superstitions of his boyhood, Charles Albert Comiskey was understandably apprehensive about the opening of his new ballpark. Taking the omens at face value, Comiskey decided not to attend the laying of the cornerstone on March 17, 1910. A single, solid green brick (which was later white washed by Bill Veeck) was laid in place by architect Zachary Taylor Davis, who kneeled on a piece of sod imported from Ireland specially for the occasion.

A labor strike by the steel workers and the death of a construction worker hours before the gala opening failed to diminish the revelry of that warm July afternoon when the “Baseball Capitol of the World” was christened. And what an opening it was! A motorcade from the Chicago Loop to the ballpark preceded the festivities that were attended by Mayor Fred Busse, C.C. Spink, publisher of The Sporting News, Garry Herrmann of the National Commission, Amos Alonzo Stagg, and even Charles W. Murphy of the Cubs. It was a banner day for the “Old Roman” but his team lost to the St. Louis Browns 2-0, despite the usual fine pitching job by Ed Walsh. The date was July 1, 1910, a little more than ten years since Comiskey set up business in Chicago.

With limited working capital, “Commy” in 1900 had purchased the former home of the Chicago Wanderers cricket team. When Comiskey surveyed the 39th St. Grounds, he found nothing more than an empty field overgrown with weeds and garbage. The very day that the Sox played their first game in Chicago, April 21, 1900 against the Milwaukee Brewers, workmen were still applying the last coat of whitewash to the wooden grandstand.

The Sox remained in this tiny ediface at 39th and Princeton for ten years. In 1902, the grandstand was enlarged, and an overhanging roof was installed. But even in its heyday, the park seated no more than 5,000. The low-cost seating that Comiskey provided down the baselines presented more than the usual problems in crowd control. Players and umpires became the targets of bottles from the fans who paid their two bits to get in. Frequently, the overflow crowds tumbled onto the field which convinced the owner to seek larger quarters.

n 1909, he purchased a tract of ground from the estate of former Mayor John Wentworth four blocks north of the 39th St. Grounds. The selection of this site was not coincidental or haphazard. In 1890, Comiskey played for the Chicago Pirates of the Player’s League on the same location. The park that had been built had long since been razed

The fact that the Wentworth Avenue streetcar line ran adjacent to the property was not lost on the “Old Roman” either. Comiskey anticipated drawing from the north and west sides, not realizing that his real constituency were the neighborhood people that resided in the ethnic south side wards of Chicago.

For several months following the close of the 1909 season, Ed Walsh and Davis (who also designed the modern Wrigley Field) toured American stadiums to draw from the experiences of developers and players alike. Comiskey Park, in all its symmetrical forms, is really a hybrid of ideas. Davis envisioned a park designed along classical lines, consistent with Daniel Burnham’s famed “Chicago Plan of1909”. His ideas were modified by Comiskey who favored a cheaper, more functional approach. Its spacious contours were no doubt influenced by Walsh.

The old 39th St. Grounds were eventually sold to the American Giants, a Negro League team operated by Frank Leland. He renamed it Schorling Park, and it remained as such until a fire destroyed the grandstand in the 1940s. Today, a low-income housing project occupies the site.

The new Comiskey Park, like its predecessor, featured an abundance of cheap seats, so even his poorest sup­porters could afford a decent ticket. There were some early indications that the single decked grandstand was too small. On May 17, 1913, a section of grandstand collapsed as a result of 35,000 fans scrambling to their seats to watch the “Frank Chance Day” festivities unfold. Fortunately no one was killed. During the World Series of 1919, Comiskey added a makeshift bleacher to accommodate all his fans.

The climate of the times dictated more changes in the 1920s. The popularity of the Yankees, Senators, and Connie Mack’s A’s led to more crowd control problems, and increasing incidents of ticket scalping. Because Americans were spending more for entertainment, an upper deck was installed prior to the 1927 season. The outfield stands, which were apart from the rest of the park, were now joined together, as Comiskey Park assumed its familiar appearance. The free standing scoreboard which had stood in right-center field, was transferred to the right and left field walls. Distance markings first appeared on the walls in 1935 — the year after the Sox unsuccessfully moved the plate eight feet forward to accommodate power boy Al Simmons. In that same year, 1935, the first loud speaker system was installed. But the fans complained about the distracting piped-in music.

During this time the Comiskeys ran a bottling plant underneath the first base seats. Here, J. Lou Comiskey learned the baseball business from the ground level — literally. In those sparse depression days, the bottling service was a major source of revenue since the Sox controlled their own concessions.

After his father’s death in 1931, Lou took over the day-to-day operation of the club. Because of his corpulence, a special elevator was constructed for him along the third base side in 1936. The old elevator, with its quaint inlaid floor, remained in use for the media until 1982.

From time to time, the ownerships have tinkered with the outfield dimensions. Makeshift walls were constructed in 1949, and again in 1969 with dismal results. Long distance home runs — which were rare before 1983, became common occurrences when the infield was again moved closer to the walls.

Through it all, Comiskey Park retains its singularly unique but overlooked charm. In the 1930s when there was little to cheer about both on and off the field, Sox fans always pointed to their 35th St. “Shrine” with a measure of pride.

In 1939, a 144 million candle power light system was installed in the park. Young Chuck Comiskey tripped the switch on August 14, 1939, as John Duncan Rigney set down the Browns 5-2. Night baseball proved to be a salvation and novelty — during the war years. Without the added revenue of night games, a tough situation might have become an impossibility.

The first free standing scoreboard since the 1920s was constructed in center field in 1950. During this memorable “Go-Go” era, there were more changes. The factories and warehouses surrounding the ballpark began disappearing. Bill Veeck’s arrival in 1959 heralded new innovative ideas. Bob Creed (later succeeded by Shay Torrent and Nancy Faust) found employment as the first White Sox organist. A picnic area was built in the outfields, and two spacious press boxes were constructed in the upper deck, one for Cardinal football, the other for the Sox.

Infield Astroturf was an Art Allyn idea, and it lasted from 1969 until Veeck’s second coming in 1976. In retrospect it probably wasn’t a very good idea, but Allyn was anxious to try anything after his idea of a south-Loop domed stadium fell through. The Sixties were a time of experimentation and innovation in the face of sagging attendance and increased media apathy. When the exploding scoreboard (installed in 1960) ceased to be a curiosity, the Sox tried new uniforms, the phony grass, a makeshift wall, and a “Dugout Cafe” behind home plate, serviced by young Soxettes clad in hotpants.

Veeck rightfully restored the natural grass, and repainted the park. The center field bullpen was eliminated, and for the first time in many years, Comiskey Park was even more spacious than what was originally intended. Veeck installed a drainage system in the outfield when flooding presented a major threat to the players.

After “Barnum Bill” departed for the second time, the tandem of Jerry Reinsdorf and Eddie Einhorn faced new dilemmas in maintaining the nation’s oldest ballpark. At first they committed themselves to an overhaul of the facility. A number of uncomfortable box seats were torn out, and a state-of-the-art Diamond Vision scoreboard replaced the fabled “Monster” in 1982. The old Bards Room, a favored watering hole for Comiskey cronies and sportswriters was boarded up, and relocated to an area in back of the upper deck box seats along first base. Supersuites that were rented to corporate clients seeking a lucrative, enjoyable tax shelter proved to be an immediate success, though the seating capacity of the park shrank by three thousand. Much of the beautification of the old stadium was done in anticipation of the 1983 All-Star Game, a centerpiece event that showcased not only the team, but the owners as well.

Even as Comiskey Park celebrated its 75th Diamond Anniversary in 1985, its future remained uncertain. A costly city amusement tax was one immediate problem. The upkeep of Comiskey Park was another. The pavilions under the stands were unsightly, some said, and structurally unsound. A marketing survey indicated that much of the long-time population base had migrated from the south side to Chicago’s far western suburbs. Conceding the fact that the bulk of Chicago’s North Shore fans were loyal to the Cubs, the Sox planners took a long look at suburban DuPage County as a future base of operations.

Jerry Reinsdorf’s Balcor Corporation exercised their option on a piece of land in Addison, Illinois — a considerable distance from the Chicago commuter lines which Charles Comiskey believed to be his “lifeline.”

As of this writing, the stadium controversy has intensified. Chicago would understandably like to re-locate the team in a multi-purpose facility south of the loop — which is a proposition the team is at best, lukewarm to.

What all this means to Comiskey Park is anybody’s guess. Certainly the park has a rich legacy to baseball’s past. It represents a long forgotten time, when baseball was a game played in summer’s dull haze; free of network television, the Wave, and Howard Cosell.

Lazy afternoons at Comiskey Park. James T. Farrell, Ring Lardner, and the poet Jean Shephard found their inspiration in the distant grandstands of this venerable old park. Art is born of inspiration. And in this case, a down and out baseball team that sold out — playing in a ballpark thought to be too large, too cold, and in a neighborhood of broken down bungalows and factories.

Comiskey, we will miss you.